Friday, December 19, 2008
This is either ironic or not.
I always liked this poem. As gloom descends over the world in an increasingly heavy cloak, I thought of it this morning.
THEY ARE NOT LONG
by: Ernest Dowson
THEY are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for awhile, then closes
Within a dream.
Posted by George Tannenbaum at 8:56 AM